


Coffee

by kikoulol340



Series: anime songfics [2]
Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Coffee, Couch Cuddles, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Insomnia, L Needs a Hug (Death Note), Light Angst, Pre-Canon, Self-Indulgent, Sleepy Cuddles, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:49:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28107303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikoulol340/pseuds/kikoulol340
Summary: L works too much. You like to think you can help, if only a little.*songfic for Coffee by beabadoobee
Relationships: L (Death Note)/Reader
Series: anime songfics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2042308
Comments: 5
Kudos: 73





	Coffee

A loud yawn left your lips as your stretched your arms out, back arching and elbows popping as you loosened your body. Sighing, you allowed yourself to relax, eyes closed as you patted the spot beside you, searching for a body that wasn’t there. Unsurprising as that was, you still couldn’t help the small frown that found its way across your face, nor the aggravated huff that slipped past your lips as you peaked one eye open to find L’s side of the bed absent.

With another huff, though less annoyed than the last, you pushed yourself to sit up straight, running your hands over your face as you let out another yawn, glancing at the clock beside the bed. 3:27am. Of course he’d still be awake.

Shaking your head, you push yourself out of bed, padding through the suite and following the smell of sugar and the familiar hum of the computer L had been glued to since he took on this case. You understood his dedication, of course, but that didn’t mean you weren’t allow to worry for his health. And worry you did. _Someone_ , aside from Watari, had to.

“Ryu?” you called into the empty room, hating the taste of his alias on your tongue.

In the dimly lit room, you saw him turn around, a small smile on his face as he took in your tired appearance, “You should be in bed.”

“I could tell you the same thing,” you scoff, smiling as you approach him.

As if on autopilot, your arms wrap around his shoulders, his back pressed to your front and your chin resting on his head. L’s hands move up to hold onto your forearm, thumbs tracing mindless patterns over your skin as he leans his head against your sternum. Smiling, you can’t help but lean down to press a small kiss against the crown of his head, your arms around him tightening as though that would somehow bring you closer to him.

“Find anything interesting?” you asked, eyes moving to the computer.

“Nothing you don't already know of,” he hummed, thumb finding its way between his teeth, “You still think we should bring the Japanese police here? Include them in the investigation instead of just giving them orders?”

“After you weed them out,” you nodded, frowning slightly, “Can’t risk having anyone turning their backs on us. Not with a case like this one.”

L let out a small hum of agreement, reaching forward to grab a pastry from the tray sat in front of him. He offered you one, but you shook your head, the idea of snacking on a donut at this hour making your nose scrunch in distaste. Instead, you pushed yourself off him, much to L's displeasure. You had to suppress your giggle as the tiniest of sounds echoed from the back of his throat and his eyes followed you with mild offense and confusion, wide as though silently questioning whether he did something wrong. You snorted, shaking your head.

Gifted as he may be, L reminded you an awful lot of a child sometimes.

“Don’t get all whiny,” you cooed, grabbing two mugs and pouring some of the coffee Watari had brewed before heading to bed, “I’m just making some coffee.”

“Can you make me some?”

You grinned, making a small sound of affirmation as you spooned one heaping of sugar into L’s cup after the next. You liked to think you were a little more refined than he was when it came to your coffee order, but you were also sure that L would disagree. 

Making your way back to him, you handed him his mug, taking a second before indulging in your own mug to gauge his reaction. As much as you liked to think you’d mastered the ratio of coffee to sugar in his mug, you still had the tendency of getting nervous, scared that it wasn’t up to his standards. Even after _years_ of doing this for him, you still got anxious. But when he hummed and smile at you, you relaxed, taking a swig of your coffee as you found a seat on the arm of the chair L was perched on.

“We probably shouldn’t be drinking this at,” you paused, glancing at the clock displayed on the computer screen, “3:33. Hey, that’s the witching hour.”

“The witching hour? Really?” L chuckled, scooting in his seat to make room for you to squeeze in beside him.

Squeeze in you did, glaring at him lightly, “Yeah, really. It’s the hour of magic, when reality doesn’t quite feel like reality, when it’s distorted. Everyone’s vibrations are higher, and, not to mention, 333 _is_ an angel number. Whatever that means...”

There was a pause of silence as L stared at you, fighting back the smile that your ramblings tended to pull out of him, "For a detective who relies on evidence, you sure believe in a lot of crazy shit."

"Intuition can be just as important as evidence," you defended, scoffing as you crossed your arms. You paused, shoulders sagging slightly as your eyes drifted to your lap, "Something tells me we should trust our intuition a little more for this case.”

“What do you mean?” L frowned, cocking his head at you as you bit at your lip.

“I don’t know, honestly,” you admitted, chuckling humorlessly as you brought your mug to your lips with one hand and rubbed your temples with the other, “I’m just tired. Overthinking.”

Frown deepening, L shifted in his seat as he pulled you to rest between his legs, your head on his chest and his arms wrapped around you, fingers massaging the back of your neck, “Tell me. What’s on your mind?”

“There’s something about this case,” you huffed, eyes slipping shut as you lost yourself in the motion of his fingers, “It doesn’t feel right. I’m… scared.”

L’s fingers paused against your neck, “You’re never scared. What's different?”

“L, we don’t even know _how_ he kills,” you pointed out, swallowing heavily, “I’m _terrified_ of what he’s capable of. I can’t lose you.”

There was a pause as L stared down at you, blinking at you like you were spouting the most nonsensical bullshit. He didn't even bother reprimanding you for using his real name as his brain processed everything you were telling him. Because even if he knew your worries were perfectly rational, a larger part of him simply wanted to remind you that you _would_ catch Kira. Eventually.

“I can’t promise that you won’t,” L sighed, never one to sugarcoat anything, “But I'll try to live.”

You pursed your lips, unsatisfied with answer despite knowing it was the best you would get out of him. Grumbling, you made yourself more comfortable against him, angrily sipping at your coffee as you felt the fear in you slowly melt into anger at the thought of Kira. Only when L resumed the small massage at the nape of your neck did you relax, letting out a small sigh.

Tilting your head, you nuzzled the tip of your nose in the crook of his neck, smiling when he kissed your forehead lightly.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be up this late,” L hummed, lips brushing against your forehead as he spoke, “Tell me, does the witching hour make it easier for negative thoughts to take over?”

“Fuck if I know,” you scoffed, pulling a chuckle out of him, “Coffee helps.”

Smiling tenderly, L grabbed your chin and tilted your head up, your eyes meeting his as he refused to pull his gaze away. You couldn’t help the dopey smile that spread across your face at the adoration in his eyes, nor could you stop your hands from reaching out to cup his face.

He leaned in before you could pull him down, his lips meeting yours in a slow, gentle kiss. You could feel him trying to bleed his passion into your lips, pressing himself close to you as he cupped the back of your head and kept you from pulling away, the taste of his desperation potent on your tongue. Maybe it was the talk of losing him, maybe it was an out of character moment kind of thing, maybe it was the late hour and the caffeine running through both of you. But you couldn’t quite recall the last time L had initiated such a fervent kiss. At least, not since he’d picked up the Kira case.

And when you pulled away, you weren’t breathless, or awed, or putty in his hands as the novels told you should be. There was something about kissing L that had always been nothing short of energizing. Like snorting a line of coke: it was a high that hit you before you even knew it hit you, and one dose was almost _never_ enough. You smiled up at him, gratitude and love for this boy filling you as you longed to feel him that close to you once again.

“If the coffee does helps your head, maybe I’ll make you some more often,” he proposed, and you couldn’t stop the giggle that left your lips.

“Really? Do you even know how I take my coffee?” you teased him, using one of your hands to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. His eyes followed your hand as it moved, reaching up to snatch your wrist, holding it gently against his chest and placing small kisses on your knuckles.

“You can teach me,” L shrugged, and you rolled your eyes, poking his nose as you refused to grace him with an answer. He’s a genius, after all. You’re sure he can figure it out on his own.

A few minutes go by where the two of you simply sit there, you laying on L and L holding you, coffee in your hands and the hands of the clocks ticking with every sip the two of you take. The short clicks are the only sound filling the room, the computer having fallen asleep some time after you’d walked into the room, distractions following close behind you. But if you strained your ears, you could almost hear the erratic beating of L’s heart, a result of not only your closeness and your entirety filling his senses, but the sheer amount of sugar and caffeine running through his body at the moment. You wanted to scowl, to scold him, to remind him that he needed to take care of himself.

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to. Not now, not when the two of you seldom had _sweet_ moments like this one.

It was so rare nowadays for L to just hold you, or vice versa. And you missed it. You missed the nights that weren’t filled with scavenging for any tidbit of information about Kira, but with whispered secrets and giggled confessions, half-empty bottle of liquor on your bedside table. You missed the days you could go out and hold his hand as you picked out gifts for Near and Mello, _without_ the fear of some crazed false God sending you to an early grave. You missed when you’d make him coffee at 3 three in the afternoon instead of the three in the morning. You missed being _just_ L Lawliet and Y/N Y/L/N, instead of L and Y/N, the detectives.

“Maybe I should go to bed,” you grumbled to yourself, setting your mug down and pinching the bridge of your nose. Your thoughts were running too fast for you to keep up, and sleep was bound to help; it had too, because you didn’t know what else could quell your worries. (Maybe solving this case already would help.)

L rose an eyebrow at you, “You just drank coffee.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be able to sleep,” you promised, pushing yourself up and turning to face him. You smiled, albeit it didn’t reach your eyes and felt forced, leaning down to kiss him fleetingly, “Don’t stay up too late, alright? And eat some fruit.”

He nodded, lips brushing against yours once more before he let you go, eyes following you as you retreated back to the bed of the suite. He could faintly see you in the darkness, could see you moving under the sheets and trying to get comfortable, could hear the sighs you let out every now and then, and suddenly L’s eyes started to droop. A small frown grew across his face as his thoughts were overridden of thoughts of you, in bed, alone, and he sighed.

Casting a final, but long glance at the still sleeping computer, he pushed himself out of his seat, stretching out his arms as he crawled into bed next to you, crawled into your arms as you readily welcomed him. He smiled, eyes falling shut as he matched your breathing, quickly following you as your breaths evened out and sleep consumed you.

He’d make you coffee when he woke up.

_And I'll make a cup of coffee_

_With the right amount of sugar,_

_How you like it._


End file.
